The Bezerker of Val Marn
by Lithuria
Summary: Long before Torak took Aldur's Orb and used it to tear the world assunder, The Prophecies are already at work. A warrior emerges with the help of Belar, Tira and Kira to see that an important EVENT comes to pass.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Eddings world or his characters, however anything that looks unfarmiliar here and doesn't come out of an Eddings book belongs to me entirely.

**The Bezerker of Val Marn**

Aldirin stood atop a perilously frail timber watchtower, the muscles in his hand frozen into a death grip about his spear shaft. Should anyone care to spring an attack from the pines to the east of Val Marn this morning he would be sure enough to sound the alarm, but he would be useless with his weapon until he'd spent an hour or so by a crackling fire to thaw the ice which now hardened his extremities into place.

As the Sun's first rays touched the clouds above the forest and painted them a deceptively warm shade of rosey pink, his thoughts drifted to the hall of King Jagmet the Wolf Crusher, his lord, master and clan chief, and his pretty blonde daughter who rested therein. Indeed, King Jagmet had been blessed (or perhaps, as some would have it, cursed) with twelve daughters in total, though he had lost four of them to the harsh Alorn winters, and all but one of them was as blonde as their mother Queen Thilde, who had been kept perpetually pregnant in her younger days by her virile husband in the quest for a son and heir. Four years ago his prayers were answered and Belar saw fit to send him little Prince Gortha, and just in time too for Queen Thilde had not since been able to bare a child.

But despite the cornucopia of pretty princesses for him to choose from, there was only one who stirred Aldirin's heart and kept his mind from his duties of Night Watchman this early morning. She was Herilda, Jagmet's thirdborn, and she was the sweetest maid in all of Val Marn in Aldirin's mind. He also considered himself the luckiest man in all of Aloria, for the coming summer he and his beautiful princess would be wed. But for now at least, winter was still upon them. The nights were dark, bitter and long and his mind soon wandered from the private bed chambers of Princess Herlida to his own hard bunk in the barracks, also a part of the King's hall, but with much poorer bed fellows.

Finally as the small town behind him began to stir into action, the morning shift arrived. The black haired brute, Branga, was as thick as an ox in both body and mind and Aldirin had known as soon as he was told Branga would be his relief that morning that he would not leave his post on time. Still he would not report him to their captain, for Branga was a good man at heart, and as hard working a man as any other once he finally got moving.

"Anything to report, Ald?" he asked once he had heaved his massive frame up onto the platform.

"Not a thing, as usual," Aldirin sighed as he flexed his fingers and brushed the frost from his flaming red beard, "There's not a soul for miles who's not sworn fidelity to Jagmet. Val Marn is safe another night."

"My turn up top tomorrow night," grimaced Branga at the prospect of the long night stood atop the haphazard structure, "Do you think I can sneak up a few blankets and catch some rest without the Captain catching me?"

"Belar!" Aldirin spat, "What precisely goes through that thick skull of yours? What do you think Krellick's going to do if he catches you dreaming like a baby up here? Fetch you another pillow?"

Branga rolled his eyes. He was a few years younger than Aldirin, who was himself still just a young man, and he was free and easy to take a few risks.

"I wouldn't be doing anything no one else aint."

"Do you see any blankets here? Do you think I've spent the night sleeping?"

"You could sleep on your feet you could," Branga jibed, "what do you need blankets and a pillow for?"

"Just be careful you don't do anything stupid Branga," Aldirin rubbed his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, pinching the bridge of his nose then rubbing back and pulling at his eyelids as he tried to shake the sleep from his mind just enough to make it back to barracks, "if I do get away with anything it's only because I'm part of Krellick's clan. You need to be more subtle. If subtlety is something you're at all familiar with…which I doubt…"

They shared a few more jibes before Aldirin was finally able to leave Branga to his job. He worried about his gigantic friend. He had been born into a clan which marched beneath the banner of the Silver Wolf, a clan which had for generations been at war with the clan of King Jagmet, the clan of the Sea Eagle. Shortly before either of the lads had been born, Jagmet had crushed the clan and had all but obliterated them. A few common riff raff surrendered and one such woman was Branga's mother, Aldirin's subsequent wet nurse. Her child at the time of Aldirin's weaning had died as so many did, but Branga was strong from the off. He grew up as close to a brother as Aldirin would ever know, for his own mother had died in childbirth and his father had never found it in him to take a new wife.

Still, as strong and hard working as he was, and as close to Aldirin's family as he had always been, the Silver Wolf clan was still sneered down on by the other residents of Val Marn. For some, whose clan's had never been in contention with them until they pledged their allegiance to Jagmet, they did it just because they could. Everyone needs an underdog to sneer at, and in Val Marn that dog was a silver wolf.

But enough of such thoughts, Aldirin thought as he caught himself mulling such depressing notions over. He somehow managed to skid across the streets of frozen mud intact and find his way back to barracks where breakfast had long been over (thanks, Branga). He took what remained of a flavourless gruel to warm up, though it was lukewarm at best, buried himself into his scratchy bunk and thought once more of sweet Princess Herilda.

* * *

><p>He awoke to the sound of alarm bells and before the fog of sleep fully cleared from his mind he was dragged half up by the collar of his tunic by the Captain of the Guard.<p>

"Alright lads up yer all get, yer King needs yer and yer'll look yer best for him. Full ceremonial and report to the main hall. Yer already late!"

Aldirin was already pulling on his fur lined boots as Krellick stormed from the room barking orders at all who lingered in the hallway. None of the others who had bunked down after their night shift knew what their sudden wake up call was all about, but it wasn't hard to tell what they thought about it. Twitching a sack cloth blind out of the way, Aldirin could see from the Sun that he had only slept a couple of hours. It was yet to reach its midday zenith.

It didn't take long before they had made their way to Jagmet's hall where the old self styled king of Val Marn looked about as bleary eyed as they. He was known for sleeping in late and had no doubt been roused from his chambers by the sound of those infernal bells which had only just now stopped.

Aldirin and his mates still had no idea why they had all been called. It seemed that every warrior in the town who was not on duty had been brought into the hall, and all dressed in their finest. His own father, chief of the Black Boar clan, sat at Jagmet's right hand side, their standards held aloft by small straw haired lads. In hierarchical order therein sat the clan chiefs of the Hawk and the Pine Martin clans. There was a representative of the Silver Wolf, but he wore no armour and bore no standard, a sign of the clans' subjugation. They had yet to prove their honour and loyalty to Jagmet on the battlefield.

To his left sat the matronly Queen Thilde with her five eldest daughters gathered behind her as her handmaidens. The young ones, including the Prince, were no doubt safely ensconced in their nursery. They were clothed in fine furs and richly dyed wools, their necks and fingers heavy with gold and jewels. The King and Queen wore their recently fashioned crowns which were no more than battered golden circlets. Aldirin, for all his intimacy with the royal family, had never seen them dressed and positioned as such, nor the warriors or clan chiefs arranged in such a manner. Certainly never on such last minute notice. A hushed whisper ran through the crowd gathered, wondering at what was going on. His father was bent close to the ear of the king, whispering carefully. Aldirin could not make out his words for the beard that hid half of his face, so he shot a questioning look over to his betrothed, but she was in quiet council with her sisters, a worried look upon her sweet face.

Shortly after he had taken position against the north wall of Jagmet's hall, a scrawny young boy ran through the doorway to the king's seat. The old man heard his whispered message then gave him a coin for his services. He disappeared off behind the dais to stand with the standard bearers, and the king stood.

He was tall and robust, though age and old battle wounds had done their work on his back to bend him forward, making him look much smaller and diminutive than he had been just a few years before. His coarse flaxen hair was peppered with iron grey and his ruddy skin, scarred and wrinkled as it was, was almost constantly twisted into a grimace. All in Val Marn knew that he was a just and fair leader, but on first appearance he was just a bad tempered old bear with a bad tooth. He took his walking staff and banged it against the wooden dais, which made a surprisingly loud noise. All in the hall came to immediate attention, but their leader said nothing more. He took his seat again and gestured towards the entrance of the hall. A thing which could only be described from first glance as a ghost had appeared there, dressed in gleaming chain mail (which was obviously too big for him) and white fox furs. He was crowned with an elaborate head piece that seemed to be a cross between a Morind relic, a war helmet and most astonishingly, a kingly crown.

The young man, whose beard was still just a smear across his thin pale face, was almost completely white. His skin and hair gleamed like snow and his eyes were like glacial ice. The unwholesome looking albino boy stepped forward slowly. His standard bore the image of a white fox, and his not insubstantial escort of warriors bore the vulpine face painted on their breastplates. It would have looked impressive had the dye not been flaking away or smeared or faded. Once they finally reached the centre of the hall, and the boy king was sure all eyes were turned his way, he cleared his throat, and a crackling voice which betrayed his youth announced;

"I am King Gerhyn the White, King of Belarheim and Clan chief of the White Foxes, and I have come to accept the unconditional surrender of Val Marn."

* * *

><p>Authors Notes: This is my first ever fanfic, so any criticismreviews are more than welcome. Just some background information...don't worry that there aren't any cannon characters, because they're coming up within the next couple of chapters! The story takes place in Eddings' "Prehistoric World" - the world before it was split by Torak, and before even all of the disciples of Aldur have been gathered together (as you will see!). As for the political stylings, the Alorns are mentioned in the original books to have been a tribal people living in clans. At this particular moment in time, one or two clan chiefs who have gained power through wars are bringing clans together into small proto-nations and styling themselves as "kings". There is no strict political system beyond he who has the "kings" favour and he who does not. Any other questions I would be happy to answer :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It had been less than a week since the peculiar little albino King Gerhyn of Belarheim had demanded the surrender of Val Marn, and he had wasted no time in launching a vicious attack on the small outlying villages that swore allegiance to Jagmet.

When Jagmet's forces struck back in a head on attack, reports were brought back to Val Marn that something was not quite right about Gerhyn's army. Warriors that should by all means be dead and rotting rose from the ground and continued fighting as if they had suffered little more than a scratch. Creatures which existed in the shadows reached out their tendril like arms and snuffed out the life of any who came too close. Great fanged beasts the likes of which had never been seen crushed all who opposed them.

Jagmet brushed aside such notions as nonsense, excuses made by cowardly men who had grown too fat to fight in the many years of peace his reign had brought. Still, the undeniable fact was that refugees from the countryside all about came flooding to Val Marn begging for shelter, and within days the enemy was banging at the gates.

This morning, Jagmet himself was forced to concede that there was something spectacularly supernatural about his opponent's forces as he watched them circle around Val Marn from the eastern most watch tower. It did not take a genius to realise the source of the demonic creatures which bent to Gerhyn's command; his army of Alorn's was peppered with wizards from Morindland.

He led his forces out to meet the enemy himself, taking with him any and all who could raise a sword or swing a battle axe. Those left within the city walls huddled up against the chill of the midwinter twilight and wondered at the eerie silence which had suddenly befallen the battlefield some hours ago. Those of the city guard that remained behind to protect the women and children of Val Marn would let no one ascend the palisade walls or watch towers to see what was happening beyond.

* * *

><p>Herilda sat in a small side chamber of her father's hall stroking the forehead of the little dark haired Prince who may well tonight become King. He had only seen four winters, and he slept peacefully oblivious to the carnage going on around him. Their mother the Queen, who had been ill for some time now, had taken to her bed this day, sick with worry for her husband. Her daughters now earned their keep as nursemaids to the many wounded who were brought back.<p>

Satisfied that the little prince was quite safe and well for now, Herilda left him in his crib of sheep skin and returned to the main hall where the many refugee's from round and about who could find no shelter elsewhere in the city had been brought, along with wounded and dying warriors who could not be found beds in the hospital wing.

Moments after she had she returned to the task of cleaning up dirty, bloodied wounds, the main door burst open and a number of the city guard brought yet more injured men. Amongst the guards was Branga, a close friend of her betrothed. She rushed to his side to aid him with his load, a man whose flame red hair at first had her believe that he was Aldirin. Alas, he was not.

"I'm sorry m'lady," Branga huffed as they laid the insensible warrior as gently as they could onto the floor beside a fire pit, "I've not seen hide nor hair of Aldirin."

"And what of my father and brother in law?" she asked, her blue eyes wide and her soft, snow white hands trembling with anticipation to hear news of her family. Branga looked anxiously past her shoulder where her elder sisters, the twin princesses Acile and Bertunde, eyed him speculatively from the other end of the hall. Bertunde's husband had fallen leading Jagmet's army into their first counter strike, but Acile's had survived to march out with their father this morning.

"The King lives, aye" he conceded, lowering his eyes once more to the man laid now at his knees, frothing at the mouth after suffering a traumatic head injury. Branga and Herlida could both see that even if he survived, he would never fight for his King again.

"But Lord Thrin does not." Herlida said plainly. Branga nodded, and heaved himself back to his feet, offering a helping hand to the lady.

"Your father has been holed up in negotiations with the albino for quite some time now," the giant continued, "I know it's not usual but…well anyhow, we were only just told to collect our wounded from the field and bring them back. As for the dead…" he paused uncomfortably, not daring to look the girl in the eye. This was not the time or the place to crumble, he had to remain strong, but inside he wanted to scream and the tears welling up in her eyes now would push him over the edge, "the dead are to be left where they are, m'lady."

"That's impossible!" her voice raised an octave or so, attracting the attention of those nearby. She didn't care. "You cannot possibly just leave them there at the mercy of those monsters!"

"Those be your father's orders, m'lady. To be honest there weren't too many wounded. What you see here…"

Herlida's face slowly contorted into an expression of shock as she absorbed the meaning of his words. She looked around her; those few men who had fetched the wounded with Branga were scurrying back to their posts now, their grim duty done for the time being.

"Surely this can't be all?" she asked as her eyes darted from face to face. Val Marn was a small place, and she recognised most of the injured here. She even knew most of the refugee's from outside of the city walls by face if not by name by now.

"No, we knew this place was crowded already. We found beds in the barracks for the rest, but there's refugee's restin' up there too so we had to, you know..."

"And Aldirin isn't…"

"Like I said, m'lady. There's no trace o' the lad."

"So he's…"

"I…no but…I can't say fer…I…" Branga stuttered, but there was no two ways about it. "s'pose so, m'lady."

Herilda drew in a slow, deep breath and put her hand to her breast as if to double check her heart was still beating. She felt the little dagger hidden within her bodice, an ornate thing that Aldirin had given her before he'd left for battle this morning. It had belonged to his mother, he'd claimed, and he wished her to keep it in case the battle did not go well and Gerhyn took the city. In such a case she may need to defend herself, after all. She'd told him it was all nonsense, made him promise her he would return to her safe and sound. He'd broken his promise.

"Please don't cry, Princess!" pipped up the voice of a young man from behind her. She jumped, startled out of her private moment as she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a boy on the verge of manhood looking at her with great sympathy in his crystal eyes and the lightest white-gold hair she'd ever seen on one of his age. She swept away at her tears with her sleeve, then realised it was not her tear addled eyes making her see double vision; there were two blonde boys, each a perfect copy of the other. She took a little time for this to register in her brain, for the only twins in Val Marn who were her sisters. Twins happened to run on her mothers side of the family.

"I'm sorry, boys," she eventually managed to stammer, "who…I've never seen you around here before, I don't think we've met."

"We're not from this place," the second boy confirmed her suspicions, "we were travelling south when we got caught up in the battle so we came here with the others to ride out the storm."

"But when we saw you were so upset," the first started again, "We thought we'd better tell you…"

He looked at his brother anxiously and the two stood in near silence as they communicated in that strange, telepathic way that twins do. Herlida had seen her sisters do this many times before, but Branga was having none of it,

"Come on now lads, don't be wasting the lady's time, she has things she needs to be doing you know!"

"He's not dead!" the two boys said in unison, their pre pubescent voices cracking at the same time. Herlida was unsettled by the perfect harmony with which they spoke, but she remained patient.

"I don't understand, boys. Who's not dead?"

"Aldirin!" they replied together.

She drew her eyes away from them to look at Branga who seemed rather uncomfortable with what the boys were saying. He shrugged at her, though what that was supposed to mean she had no idea. She looked back at the twins.

"I'm sorry children, who did you say you were again?"

"I'm Tira," the first boy smiled.

"And I'm Kira," asserted the second one, "We're shepherd's from the north,"

"We were moving our flock south into the winter pastures,"

"But there was an avalanche in one of the narrow mountain passes we had to drive them through,"

"All of our flock was lost to us, we couldn't get back to them through the snow"

"There was no way back home so we decided to keep going south."

"We'd never seen much of the world except those pastures,"

"And we thought it would be nice to explore."

"And we've been heading south ever since that terrible accident."

"It wasn't a long time ago, you were the first people we've seen on our travels."

The sweet twin boys recited this as precisely as if they had been practising the same little story for years now, and even Herilda found herself a little spooked by it.

"And so how do you know that Aldirin is not dead?" she asked.

"We saw him in a dream, Princess!" they sang together, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to receive such prophetic dreams.

"And do you know where he is?"

"Of course!"

"Could you take me to him now?"

"M'lady, please!" protested Branga, "Don't be listening to such nonsense. You've no idea who these lad's really are. They might be spirits conjured up by those Morindim fiends to lure you out into danger!"

Branga was met by three icy glares, offense from the boys and incredulity from Herilda.

"Well since you're so very concerned for my welfare, perhaps they could show you where Aldirin is instead?"

Branga blinked in surprised, then shuffled his feet, mumbling something about his duties here.

"Your first duty is to your king and his family, Branga. If Aldirin is still alive, I want him here by my side. Do you understand?"

The big man narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the twin boys, who smiled up at their new travelling companion eagerly. There was something not quite right about them. Perhaps they were really Morind wizards. The Morindim may have dark skin and black hair, but they may well have been snatched from their Alorn cribs at birth or some such other atrocity. His princess, however, was standing with hands on her hips glaring up at him, impatiently awaiting his obedience. If he disobeyed her she could speak to Krellick who no doubt flog him for insubordination, but if he did as he was told Krellick would flog him for deserting his post. That said, Krellick's whip was the least of his worries should he leave the city now. He'd seen how the battle had gone, he knew what lurked beyond Val Marn's walls.

"Don't be afraid, sir," the one called Tira said with a voice which was much too cheerful, all things considered, "we'll keep you safe!"

Branga snorted at that, and shook his head, "With a pair of young whelps like you, who needs a sword at all ey?"

The twins looked hurt and the colour was rising in Herilda's cheeks

"Well, what will it be Branga? Are you going or am I?"

"Damn it all," he heaved in exasperation, "Come on you two. We'd best take the back door out of here. Krellick will have my beard for this."

Herlida's face instantly softened and she placed her small hand on Branga's shoulder.

"Thank you, Branga. I won't forget this."

"It's my duty to serve, as always," he sneered, but she ignored his quip. He had ever been caustic, and she always forgave him for he was Aldirin's friend.

"Come on lads," he motioned for the twins to follow him out into the barrack's wing, where there was a back exit from the hall which would no doubt be left unguarded right now. He cast a backwards glance at the red headed warrior he had carried in from the field. His name was Ladner, and he was one of the best swordsmen in all of Val Marn.

"You know lads, there was a reason I signed up for the city guard instead of the army,"

"Never mind," said Kira in his ever cheerful tones, "Mother always used to say that everything happens for a reason."

* * *

><p>Authors Notes: This chapter didn't come easily, and there seems to me to be a sticky point where Tira and Kira appear (Told you there would be some cannon characters :p) and also where Herilda accepts their proposition without question. This is because I only mean this to be a short story of a few chapters...if I had longer I would expand this and make it more natural and flowing but I'm not sure how to do it with the space constraints I've put on myself!<p>

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy. Read and review please, I would be very greatful!


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